


Trust Me, You Won’t

by mhunter10



Series: Something, something mpreg [6]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, mhunter10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 02:21:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhunter10/pseuds/mhunter10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey takes care of Ian this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust Me, You Won’t

"How long have you been up?" Mickey said, leaning against the door of the den. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and picked at some dry spit on his face.

Ian was hunched over a large booklet of assembly instructions, sitting in the middle of the floor surrounded by cardboard and paint cans and tools. He set it aside and turned to his boyfriend, yawning loudly. “Haven’t been to bed yet.”

"Ian, are you kidding me?" His voice was full of exasperated outrage and concern. "You’ve been in here all night working on all this?" He gestured to the freshly painted walls and half put together furniture spread around.

Ian looked around at the mess of protective sheets and newspaper, and back at Mickey sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to finish one more thing, but then that became more things…”

Mickey rolled his eyes and shook his head, “Why didn’t you just come to bed when I told you to? You could have done this later.”

Ian gave him a look. “Later when? Look at you Mickey, we couldn’t put it off any longer.”

"We put it off this long, what’s it matter a few days more?"

Ian sighed and got up, beginning to gather some of the trash. “Because we don’t have that kind of time. You heard what the doctor said. It could be any day now.”

"Yeah, any day, not any minute."

"You don’t know that, Mickey!"

"What’s the big deal? Why are you freaking out?" Mickey laughed incredulously.

Ian kept moving, picking up things and straightening the few pieces he finished. “I”m not freaking out,” he gritted.

Mickey stepped further into the room, the smell of paint drying hitting him more despite the window being wide open. “Ian,”

Ian turned around quickly, crumpling some bubble wrap and throwing it down. “What? I’m not! This is important!”

"Okay, but you don’t have to kill yourself over it. It’s just a room."

"It’s not just a room, Mick. This is going to be a nursery for our kid. It has to be right. I have to do it right." He plopped himself back down, facing away from Mickey, and grabbed a screwdriver and a screw that looked like it possibly went to any part of the crib. They had gotten it as a gift from Fiona when they’d had that…’party’. Mickey wouldn’t let any of them call it what it was. He just sat there with a plate of cake, while Ian stacked pack after pack of diapers next to him and thanked their guests. They were certainly going to be thankful for the haul later. But it wasn’t later anymore, it was soon. Very soon. And it seemed like it would never come, but now it was looming over them faster than they’d expected. How could he let everything wait this long? Now he was turning the tool roughly, but nothing was doing what it was supposed to be doing. He cursed under his breath and knitted his brow.

Mickey came over and eased himself down to a crouch; the hand he’d placed on Ian’s shoulder wanting to calm him, being used more to keep him steady. He was out of breath from the simple move and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay like this long. Ian had this panicked look on his face, as he examined first the screw driver then the other screws laid out before him. His obvious confusion over what he was doing wrong was only making him hate himself more. Mickey could tell.

"Hey, Ian. Look at me, c’mon," he said, moving his fingers to the hair at the base of his neck. "Relax, alright?"

"I can’t…" he sounded exhausted and on the verge of defeat.

Mickey briefly replaced his fingers with his lips. “Yes you can. What’s up? Why are you acting like this?”

Ian dropped everything from his hands and closed his eyes, willing his breathing to slow. He rubbed his face with his hands and finally turned his head to Mickey. He saw the look in his eyes and felt himself sort of melt inside. He was tired and stressed. He just needed to be focused on Mickey right now, but here he was worrying about everything. He turned around fully and helped Mickey to sit down in front of him. He scooted as close as he could and leaned forward to wrap his arms around him and lay his head on his chest. Mickey immediately put his arms around him, as far as he could reach. Ian sighed into him.

"Why are you upset?" Mickey asked, looking down at Ian. He was like a little boy, he looked so young like this. He could feel him holding on tight, like he’d been needing this for a while.

"I’ll screw up," Ian said quietly.

"Gallagher—"

"No, Mick, I will. I am now." His voice cracked, so he buried his head further into the other man.

"Because you procrastinated a bit on putting a crib together?"

Ian didn’t say anything for a while, then breathed out shakily. “I’m fucking up by having a job that could take me away from you guys at any time for any amount of time. What if I’m not around and I miss something? He’ll start to hate me. What he grows up not even knowing who I am?”

"I wouldn’t let that happen. And neither would you. You wouldn’t let it get to that."

"But I love my job, Mickey. I’ll feel like I can’t enjoy it or that’ll be selfish. I don’t want to start resenting it because it’s making me some terrible dad."

Mickey shook his head and couldn’t help but chuckle. “What are you even talking about now? What does any of that have to do with painting some walls and building some shit he won’t even care about?”

Ian went silent in thought for a moment. Why was he so worried about being a bad father? He was nothing like Frank, and he knew that. Suddenly everything he’d done to prepare for the day he would finally have a child of his own, would be destroyed because one screw doesn’t fit? It didn’t make any sense when he said it that way in his head, but he was laying in his pregnant boyfriend’s arms on the floor of a half-finished nursery on the verge of tears. What was wrong with him?

Finally he spoke.

"It needs to be right from the start, because then I can’t screw up later."

Mickey thought about this for a long beat, rubbing Ian’s shoulders and back. It made absolutely no fucking sense, but that was how Ian was. Even from the beginning he was constantly worrying about things that didn’t matter because they always added up to something much bigger and more terrible in his mind. Of course, all of this was right next to his extreme ability to care for everyone so deeply, that it was virtually impossible for him to do wrong to anyone. Especially to his son, considering the poor example he had. Mickey felt like he understood, in those terms. He could definitely see why it was so important for Ian to put all his faith in making the little things perfect.

Mickey pushed Ian up so he could see his face. It was red and his eyes were wet, but nothing had fallen. He caressed his cheek with the back of his hand, and Ian leaned into it, looking up at him through his lashes. Mickey brought his face to his and captured his lips in a long, slow kiss. He ran his tongue along them until they opened, letting him in to explore. Ian moaned from the sensation,feeling Mickey’s hands tugging lightly at his hair. He brought his hands up to cup Mickey cheeks and hold him in place, licking his way inside his mouth.

Mickey gasped for breath against Ian’s mouth when he broke the kiss. When their hooded eyes met, he whispered, “Trust me, you won’t,” and crushed their lips back together hard. When he moved down to his neck, sucking and licking, Ian tipped his head back and groaned. He wanted to pull Mickey on top of him, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen with his belly in the way. He settled for pulling him down so they were laying on their sides, and putting a leg over him, he needed Mickey close. Mickey was leaving a hickey on his adam’s apple, while grabbing at his ass and snaking a hand under his shirt. Ian sighed when he felt warm fingers pinch his nipples.

Ian was making all these wonderful sounds, and Mickey didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want to take his mouth or his hands away to say that he was so incredibly lucky that Ian was going to be the father of their baby with him. He didn’t want to stop and tell him that everything he’s done for him has been the right thing. He wants to make him believe it by closing as much space between them and showing him with every touch, grope, lick, rub and kiss.


End file.
